Interlude at Sea
by Alexandra Lyman
Summary: A little "deleted scene" from Beyond the Horizon. Just some PWP set in that verse, but can be read as a standalone. Princess Emma and Captain Killian Jones, and one of the many nights at sea on the Jolly Roger.


**Author: In Beyond the Horizon, this takes place at an unspecified time between Chapters 17 & 18. Just a little smutty interlude for a Saturday afternoon, I felt like writing something in this verse but it can also be read as a standalone. Princess Emma and Captain Killian Jones enjoying some sexytimes on the Jolly Roger, and Emma's first time giving a BJ, basically.**

The first time he had done this to her she had been shocked by it. The intimacy of such an act, the feel of his mouth between her legs exploring her, tasting her. His lips were so soft against her, even as his beard abraded the delicate skin on her inner thighs and the contrast of the pleasure against the pain had made her want to feel more, _more._ More sensations, more heated kisses and cool breath that made her shiver and shake. She'd pressed herself eagerly, wantonly against his wicked tongue, feeling him lap against her as the waves lapped against the ship and she'd been carried away on a white crest of feeling that lifted her up and crashed all around her and stole the very breath from her lungs.

She could so easily drown in him.

But that was not the only surprise. She realized quickly that he loved it as much as she did, that he loved giving her such intense pleasure, that he wouldn't stop until she reached that peak and then he'd settle over her with a smug smile and the taste of her clinging to his lips. Strange, to kiss him afterwards and swallow that salty rich tang and feel the hard press of him on her thigh. Proof of how much he had enjoyed his ministrations on that part of her that no one else had ever explored, save for the nights when her own nervous hand delved down in the darkened bedchamber with the bedclothes pulled up high and her face buried in the pillow.

One night she worked up the nerve and asked him, "Would you like it if I….did that to you?"

His eyes had shot to hers, his hair falling over his forehead in the way that always made her want to run her fingers through it and smooth it back, so she did and watched a strange play of emotions cross his face.

"Princess, for future reference you never have to ask that."

He stretched out on the narrow bunk and she couldn't help but trace the lines of his body with her eyes. The lantern next to the bed was turned down low and he lay more in the shadow than in the light, dark hair, dusky skin, and most definitely aroused by what she had suggested.

She slid down and brushed his stomach with kisses the way he did to her, each one slightly lower than the one before. He was completely rigid under her mouth, the muscles drawn up tight and quivering with each soft touch.

"You'll tell me if I do something wrong?" she whispered and saw his hand fist in the sheets.

"Unless you bite it off love, there's no way you could possibly do it wrong."

She suppressed a giggle and worked up the courage to flick her tongue over the tip of him.

So intimate, the taste of his salt in her mouth and his soft groans as she sucked and licked and explored. The skin was so soft yet he was so hard, and she took in as much as she could, her hands braced on his thighs and his fingers threading through her hair. She had imagined the nights she would spend in her marriage bed, the nameless, faceless man who would have her maidenhead and lay claim to her body, and had hoped he would be tender and gentle with her, loving and sweet.

The pirate who trembled underneath her appeared to be none of those things at first glance. She'd seen him strike with harsh blows and heard him raise his voice in anger, seen the violence in his eyes, worse than any storm at sea.

"Emma."

Her name fell from his lips on a choked sob and he thrust against her lips, hot and hard and _hers_.

He was tender and harsh, gentle and rough, sweet and tart, he was everything, and he _loved_ her. His ship was not a palace, and he was far from being a prince, but she dreamed not of that nameless, faceless man anymore and a pristine feather bed with white satin sheets. There was only blue eyes and a devilish smile, callused fingers and scratchy woollen blankets.

She kissed the velvet skin and nipped lightly at his hip, she nosed between his legs and inhaled his male scent, feeling the slickness coat her thighs, the throbbing ache of her own need. But he was gasping and shaking and when she took him in hand and flicked her tongue over him with rapid strokes he let out a string of curses and she understood the power of holding back on her own pleasure and giving this to him. No wonder he enjoyed doing this to her so much. She loved the sounds he was making, loved that she had done this to him.

_She thought, maybe, that she might love him._

"Your mouth...oh love, I've wanted this, you have no idea how much I've wanted your sweet tongue on my cock."

He grasped her shoulders and pushed her away from his lap and she looked up at his face, confused as to why he had stopped her if this was what he wanted.

His voice was low and thick with desire, "There's something else I've wished for. Will you do it for me?"

Her throat went dry, as curiosity and slight alarm flooded through her, "What?"

He sat up and went onto his knees at the end of the bed, "Come over here," he said, patting the mattress in front of him. She shuffled where he was pointing, and he nudged her around so that she was facing away from him.

"Get on your hands and knees," he whispered into her ear, a warm hand cupping her breast.

"Killian, I don't know...I'm not sure..."

She hated how nervous she sounded, but she couldn't help it. It was all still so new and terrifying.

Fingers traced her stomach, "Do you trust me?"

It was sheer insanity, how much she trusted this man who had stolen her away, the man who others feared so much. He pushed her hair off her shoulder and dusted feather light touches with his mouth over the slope. She leaned forward and planted her hands on the bed, breathing heavily as she felt him push her legs farther apart.

Slow and gentle, with his hands on her hips and the firm thighs behind her own, he claimed her again in a heavy slide into where she was slick and damp and aching, and it made her toes curl and heat bloom deep inside her.

"Oh!" she cried out, "_Oh!_"

He stilled inside her, "If it's too much tell me to stop now, otherwise I won't be able to. I don't want to hurt you darling, but I need...I need..."

"I'm not made of glass. I won't break."

She rocked back against him and almost heard the snap of his control breaking. He drew out and surged forward, his fingers digging into her skin and holding her in place. She felt a pull inside with every stroke and none of her girlish fantasies had ever come close to this.

"Mine," he groaned, and again, "_Mine!_ Emma, you're mine and _mine only_!"

They had exchanged no vows, signed no pledge, sought no permission from her parents, but all of that faded away. On a ship that sailed through unclaimed waters, bound by no kingdom's laws, she accepted his claim.

"Yours," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her through his lust-filled haze and the muffle of the bedclothes against her face, "Only yours."

His arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her back, the wave crashed over her again and swept them both away. She drowned in the feeling, in him.

Afterwards he held her close and nuzzled against her, warm lips on the back of her neck and his nose in her hair. She had washed it that evening with the soap he had bought her, pink rose petals pressed into the bar.

"I'll never smell a rose again without thinking of you," he mumbled.

She would never be able to look at the sea again without thinking of him.

"Go to sleep, Captain."

His hand found hers and their fingers laced together under the blanket.

"Sweet dreams, Princess."

Her eyes closed and held safe and warm in her sailor's arms, the tide rose over her and carried her away.


End file.
